


Been Here All Along

by rightofpostponement



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Based on a Taylor Swift Song, Childhood Friends, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, M/M, Mutual Pining, Romance, Self-Indulgent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-09
Updated: 2017-01-16
Packaged: 2018-06-07 07:19:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 19,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6793018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rightofpostponement/pseuds/rightofpostponement
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kenma has been in love with Kuroo for what seems like half his life. He knows he should probably fix that, especially since Kuroo has recently acquired a beautiful (yet terrifying) girlfriend. But that's easier said than done, especially when your bedroom windows are five feet away from each other. </p><p> </p><p>Based on Taylor Swift's "You belong with me" music video.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. You're on the phone with your girlfriend she's upset

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kurokoyesbasket](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kurokoyesbasket/gifts).



> For Liz

Kenma stared from the shadows of his room into the window directly across from his. There was a boy highlighted against the soft glow of a lamp, pacing back and forth, clutching a cell phone to his ear. His free hand waved abstractly around his head before becoming entangled in his already messy black hair.

Kenma knew that if someone were to see him they would probably think him a stalker. But that was nothing new. For over 10 years he’d been looking into that room, wishing for _something._ When he was younger he hadn’t known what that _something_ was, had been content with how things were between him and the boy next door. He suddenly wished he still didn’t know what the _something_ was after all. It would make things a hell of a lot less painful.

All of a sudden the boy yanked his phone away from his ear, tossed it on his desk, and threw himself onto the bed forcefully, face first. Probably screamed into his pillow, Kenma assumed. 

Enough was enough. Picking up his DS, Kenma made his way to his window and took a seat on the pillow long ago placed on the narrow ledge. He opened his window, feeling the cool breeze of late summer wash over his face. Grabbing a few acorns from a bowl placed strategically within arm’s reach of the window, Kenma threw them lightly at his neighbor’s glass.

The acorns were the only thing they could think of that was safe to throw repeatedly at each other’s windows. Rocks had been discarded after the first attempt ended in a broken window, angry parents, and a large repair bill. Acorns were perfect because it didn’t matter if they fell on the ground, they weren’t hard enough to break anything, and they made a loud enough noise to draw attention. 

Kenma stared at the acorns as they ricocheted off the window. They tumbled down, swallowed by the darkness that had fallen sometime in the last half hour. The boy inside slowly lifted his head up and turned around, spotting Kenma curled up against the dark, face illuminated by his screen. Sauntering over to the window, he pushed it open, leaning dangerously far over the edge.

“I hate it when you do that,” Kenma stated dryly, not looking up from his game. Kuroo laughed softly, arching his back to look up at the sky, closing his eyes briefly. Kenma realized he was staring when his character was brutally killed by a boss due to his negligence.

“You okay?” he asked softly, closing his game with a _snick_ , turning his gaze on his best friend.

It took a while for Kuroo to answer. He swallowed audibly before stretching his arm out, trying to touch the side of Kenma’s house, like it was a comfort blanket. It was a game between the two; Kuroo always came close to brushing the brick with his fingers, but could never quite reach. He often bemoaned that if Kenma were to reach out and take his hand it would count, but Kenma refused to lean out his window more than a few centimeters. It was dangerous and stupid, he claimed. And if Kenma prided himself on anything, it was being smart and safe.

“Yeah, it’s just . . . I’m just tired of drama.” Kuroo sounded more than tired; he sounded exhausted. But Kenma kept his opinion to himself, not knowing what to say. He had never been good with emotions, especially with regards to his best friend.

“I’m sorry,” Kenma said quietly, knowing that Kuroo understood what he was actually trying to say. _I’ll always be here for you. If you need to vent you can. I wish you weren’t hurting._

_I love you._

Kuroo didn’t know about that last part. And Kenma had no intention of ever telling him about it. He valued Kuroo’s friendship too much to risk losing it over something as trivial as a not-so-small crush.

Kuroo looked at him for a moment before turning back to the stars with a sigh. He slowly inched his way back into his bedroom, calming Kenma’s nerves. When his head was finally inside his room he raised his arms, grasping the top of his window. “Thanks, Kenma. I needed that.” He gave a ghost of a smile before pushing his window closed and drawing his dark curtains.

Kenma wasn’t offended; he did it all the time to Kuroo, so it was only fair that he be shut out at least once. No, Kenma was angry. Angry at himself for being too chicken to tell Kuroo how he felt, angry at Kuroo for intentionally making himself miserable, but most of all he was angry at Kuroo’s girlfriend, the root of the whole problem. He opened his DS again, needing something comforting to combat his stress and suppress his rising anxiety.

Naomi was everything Kuroo had told Kenma he wanted in a girlfriend. She was beautiful, smart, and a cheerleader. She volunteered in her free time, was devoted to Kuroo, and never complained about all the time he spent at volleyball practice. On paper she was the ideal partner. There was just one teeny issue.

She _hated_ Kenma.

It wasn’t exactly a secret, either. Naomi was, in a word, _friendly_. Almost disturbingly so, Kenma thought. She couldn’t go 20 feet without stopping someone in the halls to have a quick chat with between classes, making idle chat with best friends and tentative acquaintances in equal measure. She was extremely outgoing, and made friends with the volleyball team after minutes of meeting them. But for all her kind words and compliments to strangers, for all her popularity and reputation as a sweetheart, she couldn’t stand to be around Kenma.

Everybody noticed when she baked cupcakes for their volleyball team but conveniently ran out right before Kenma could take one. Nobody missed the way she snuggled up to Kuroo whenever Kenma was in the same room, like a dog marking her territory. The biggest indicator, however, is how she didn’t speak to him, but at him – like he wasn’t worth the effort to try and address properly.

It wasn’t like Kenma could blame her, not really. If he were dating Kuroo and knew someone he was close to was painfully and obviously in love with him he’d be jealous, too. He just didn’t understand how pretty, popular Naomi could feel threatened by him in any way. They were complete opposites. She was a gorgeous second year, he was a mousy, plain freshman. She was extraverted and popular, Kenma was shy and had approximately one close friend.

Naomi was even more important to the volleyball team than he was, and she didn’t even play the sport. She was the cheer captain, pumping up the crowd, who in turn pumped up the players. Kenma was a physically unimpressive benchwarmer, stuck on the bleachers. His upperclassmen were terrible to him, making him run longer and further than anyone else on the team for no apparent reason. The only reason he hadn’t quit already was because of Kuroo, who literally got down on his knees and begged him not to leave, that next year he’d be captain and Kenma would be the official setter and everything would be _perfect_. Kenma was self-aware enough to admit the only reason he headed Kuroo’s advice was because of how adorable he’d looked groveling, not because of his impassioned speech.

The light from his screen abruptly going black snapped Kenma out of his trance. It had evidently died while he was absorbed in his self-thrown pity party. Staring at the useless device for a minute, he slowly stood, tossed his DS on his bed, grabbed his PSP, and snuggled back into his nook by the window. If his calculations were correct (and they usually were), Kuroo would appear in around 5 minutes, ready to spill the beans about what happened between him and Naomi. Kuroo was normally good at keeping things from other people, especially personal problems. Kenma was the only one he allowed himself to be completely open to without fear of feeling embarrassed or like he was bothering him with his issues. 

Sure enough, 4 odd minutes later Kuroo reappeared in a blaze of light as he yanked his curtains open and hastily raised his window. “So the thing is, I don’t know exactly what I’ve done wrong,” he jumped right in. “Lately she’s been wanting to spend a lot more time together, which is fine, I get it I guess. I mean it’s annoying, but whatever.”

Kenma tried to keep his face neutral as he stared at his game. Kuroo made it sound like hanging out with Naomi wasn’t any more enjoyable than doing the dishes or sweeping the floor. Nothing but a boring chore to get done so your mom would finally stop nagging.

“I thought I made it clear when we started dating that during the season I wouldn’t have much time to go out on dates or hang out. And I need some alone time every once in a while too, ya know.” Kenma did know. Kuroo’s so called “alone time” more often than not involved the two of them, a pile of video games, and unhealthy amounts of junk food.

“So she called me yesterday and asked if we could hang out, since she got done with babysitting early or something. But we already had plans to camp out and wait for your new game, _Final Defense of Battlefront_ or whatever it’s called, so I told her I was busy, but could hang any other time of the weekend.”

Kenma bit his cheek hard to keep a slight smile from his face, and hoped the light blush he felt warming his cheeks wasn’t noticeable in the darkness. Kuroo chose him over his girlfriend. Cue the butterflies.

“But apparently the only day that worked for her was yesterday night, and she got really mad when I told her that I was hanging out with you instead. Said I had to choose either her or you, which is bullshit. Like, this isn’t a movie, I can have time for a girlfriend _and_ normal friends.” Kuroo stopped talking for a moment, breathing heavily. Kenma raised his eyebrows lightly, wondering if they should perhaps cut back on all the ice cream if Kuroo was that out of breath after talking for 2 minutes.

Before Kuroo could start talking again, Kenma spoke up. “Why did you mention me? That’s what she’s mad about, you hanging out with me, not you hanging out with your friends.” His quiet voice carried across the warm wind, rushing out of his window and into Kuroo’s.

“What? Why would she care that I’m hanging out with you over someone else?”

Kenma rolled his eyes at Kuroo’s adorably confused expression. “Naomi hates me, Kuro.”

“No she doesn’t,” he said immediately, looking incredibly offended that anyone would dare to dislike Kenma.

“She really does,” Kenma responded, looking back down at his game to avoid Kuroo’s inquisitive stare. “Ever since you’ve started dating we haven’t really gotten along.” He left it unsaid that she was the one who made her feelings known while he suffered in silence, like always.

Kuroo didn’t say anything, standing abruptly and walking over to where he’d tossed his phone. Kenma sighed quietly, knowing that he had to stop Kuroo before he ended his first relationship and subsequently made Kenma’s life a living hell because of the fury of a scorned woman.

“Stop it, Kuro, I don’t blame her.” Kuroo stopped mid-dial and looked at him, confused. “If I were going out with someone and they repeatedly skipped out on dates to hang out with one specific person all the time I’d be a little upset, too.” Especially if that person was sickeningly in love with whoever he was dating.

“If she’s said anything, or been mean to you, Kenma . . .” Kuroo trailed off threateningly, hands tightening into fists as he came back to the window. Kenma looked back down at his game to hide his pleased smile, hair covering his face.

“It’s nothing serious, Kuro. I can just tell she doesn’t like me, that’s it.”

They lapsed into companionable silence, Kenma playing his video game while Kuroo watched. This is how things always were, and always would be, Kenma figured. He was fine with it, had accepted his pathetic, one-sided crush ever since it had developed on a rainy day when he was 13.

The materialization of his romantic feelings for Kuroo hadn’t surprised Kenma in the slightest. The closest thing to an _aha_ moment he had was when he’d been walking to school alone during his second year of junior high. Kuroo had an appointment with his science teacher and had left early, leaving Kenma to make the long walk to school alone for once. He didn’t mind; he liked being alone, and it would give him more time to beat the boss of a new game he’d recently started playing.

He hadn’t noticed it was raining until small droplets appeared on his screen. He’d looked up in confusion, staring at the deep gray sky and angry black clouds, heavy with water. Immediately he panicked, looking around desperately for anywhere to take shelter in, even if it was a gross, public bathroom

Kenma was deathly afraid of thunderstorms. He figured his fears must stem from some repressed childhood memory with how crippling they were. Any time the weather looked like it might turn into something slightly more severe than a drizzle he completely shut down, unable to move, barely able to breathe.

It was on that dreary street corner – video game clutched between numb hands, dark hair growing black from the rain – that Kuroo found him, unmoving. “KENMA!” he yelled, running up from behind, an umbrella clutched in his fist. Shoving the umbrella over his friend’s head, Kuroo grabbed his arm and started running towards school.

They were only a few blocks away, and Kuroo kept up an unending stream of commentary the whole run there. “I’m sorry I’m late, but I left the minute I saw the weather turning. My science teacher’s probably really confused, I kind of grabbed his umbrella and ran out. Lucky he had one handy, he must’ve checked the forecast or something this morning.”

Kenma’s head was clearer now that Kuroo was beside him, holding the small umbrella over him, sacrificing his own clothes and hair to the elements. His panic started to ebb, and he regained control of his breathing slightly. Kuroo, who was so strong and dependable, and now soaking wet because of Kenma’s inability to deal with a little rain. Guilt washed over him now that his head was clear enough to process the situation.

“And don’t you dare say anything about this, either. You know I don’t mind taking care of you, you’ve taken care of me countless times. Like when we were little and I couldn’t sleep for a week because I watched that scary movie so you let me share your bed. Or when I had that allergic reaction to a bee sting and you ran for help so fast you nearly broke your leg jumping that one fence. This is no big deal.”

Honestly, it wasn’t fair. When Kuroo said things like that, and looked dazzlingly handsome in his soaked uniform while flashing a huge grin under sopping wet hair, how could anyone blame his heart for skipping a beat or two?

It was on that frenzied sprint to school under a too-small umbrella and the pouring rain that all the vague, uncertain pieces and fuzzy half-formed questions clicked together, reveling to Kenma his true feelings for his neighbor turned best friend.

Kenma snapped back to reality with a shout from Kuroo. “I almost forgot, wait here!” Kenma watched as Kuroo went to his bed and dropped to his knees, pulling something long and white out from under it. Grabbing it, he waddled back to the window and started to push it towards Kenma, much to his horror.

“What are you doing?” he asked, trying to keep a level tone as the long white thing made its way closer and closer to him.

“Isn’t it awesome? It’s one of those racks that go in your closet to hang clothes off of. Bokuto came over last week and we totally decided that it wasn’t living up to its true potential, so we ripped it out of the wall. Oh, that reminds me. When I climb on it can you take a picture so I can show Bo it works? He’s gonna flip. Hey, get out of the way, I don’t want to hit you.”

“Kuro, this is the worst idea you’ve ever had. And that’s saying something. Do you even know if it can hold your weight?” Kenma stuck his head out of his window and stared at the ground. It was a long ways away.

“Well no, but it probably will. It’s made out of metal, right?” Kenma sighed, realizing there was no point in arguing with Kuroo when he got like this. He moved out of the way and grabbed the end of the rack, making sure that it was secure on his side.

“Okay, I think it’s good. Do you want to try it first or should I?” At Kenma’s nasty glare he laughed, pounding his fist against the impromptu bridge a few times before nodding, as if that proved just how safe it was.

Anxiety bubbled in Kenma’s gut, hot and uncomfortable when Kuroo stuck his upper body over the rack, followed quickly by his lower half. Kenma swore his heart stopped every time a breeze washed over them, ruffling Kuroo’s hair, or the “bridge” creaked slightly under his considerable weight.

“Take the picture now!” Kuroo said when he was halfway over. “I need proof.”

Kenma was never a man of many words. But with Kuroo suspended 15 feet above concrete on a flimsy clothing rack, he figured he’d make an exception. “If you don’t get your ass in here in the next five seconds I’m closing my window and calling the police to report an attempted breaking and entering.”

Kuroo gasped, eyes widening before he gracelessly crawled the rest of the way to Kenma’s window, throwing himself inside. He landed in a graceless heap on the ground, moaning about how mean Kenma was.

Grabbing the rack, Kenma quickly shoved it under his bed, wishing he had a match so he could burn it. “You aren’t allowed to use this anymore,” he informed the unmoving heap at the base of his window. “There’s a reason we have front doors, Kuroo.”

Kuroo didn’t seem to hear him, overjoyed that his and Bokuto’s plan had worked and he didn’t have to be scraped off the ground by his fuming parents. Kenma merely sighed, plastering on an indifferent expression to hide the fear and relief he felt over Kuroo’s stunt. If this was all a ploy to make Kenma feel better over Naomi disliking him, it worked like a charm.

10 minutes later, under the heavy weight of multiple blankets and Kuroo’s arm slung over his shoulder, he supposed that maybe the idiot’s stupid invention wasn’t too bad after all.


	2. She wears short skirts I wear T-shirts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this took so long, life was crazy for the past month. But I'm back!

Kenma sat on the bench with the rest of the second-string players, his stomach twisted in nervous knots, palms sweaty. He was unable to tell if his nausea was due to the possibility of being placed in an official game for the first time, or if it was leftover due to a nasty fall Kuroo had taken during the second set.   
  


 

It wasn’t really that big of a fall; he got tangled up in the legs of the player across the net from him and crashed to the floor with a shout. But while Kuroo had bounced to his feet with a laugh and a wave to the stands a moment later, Kenma’s heart had only just slowed down to a normal rhythm. He supposed he should try to calm down whenever he thought about Kuroo; this whole heart-racing thing couldn’t be good for his health.

  
  


They won, in the end. Kuroo singlehandedly blocked the other team’s match point, giving Nekoma the time and spirit to come back three points and take the match. Kenma, normally reserved to the point of abnormality, was on his feet and running to center court with the rest of his team when the final whistle blew. Kuroo eventually emerged from the bottom of the first string pig pile, eyes blazing and grin face splitting. He popped up and was immediately swarmed by teammates, put into headlocks, and clasped heavily on the shoulder.  Suddenly feeling very shy, Kenma stopped his mad rush forward and stood on the edge of the celebrations, observing Kuroo’s newfound celebrity statues. He didn’t have long to wallow in self-doubt, however, for when Kuroo scanned the crowd and saw him on the fringe he immediately made a beeline for Kenma, slapping high fives along the way.

  
  


“KENMA! Did you see my last block? Wasn’t it awesome?” Kuroo yelled, grabbing Kenma in a tight embrace and twirling them into the center of the court with the rest of the team. Kenma would have responded that  _ yes, it was awesome _ , you  _ were awesome _ , if a hand hadn’t suddenly grasped the collar of his jersey and pulled him out of Kuroo’s arms, long nails scratching into the soft skin of his back.

 

Hand reflexively going to his throat as his air supply was cut off, Kenma coughed violently and sucked air into his burning lungs, observing the leggy cheerleader who had taken his spot in Kuroo’s arms, who barely registered the change in person. Naomi buried her head in Kuroo’s  neck and kicked her legs in the air.

 

“CONGRATS BABE, you looked so great!” She lifted her head to proclaim how proud she was of her boyfriend, and how amazing he was at volleyball.

 

Kenma watched as Kuroo laughed with her and leaned down to give her a sweet kiss on the cheek. He felt a crack appear in his heart as they stared at eat other, blatant affection written across their faces. Kenma took a step back, towards the exit when he saw Naomi and Kuroo’s parents walk towards them, offering congratulations and demanding pictures. Feeling his pulse thrum in his ears, Kenma turned and bolted towards the locker room, the image of Kuroo standing tall in his sports uniform and of Naomi, looking beautiful and petite next to him, burned into his mind.

 

Kenma burst into the empty locker room and changed out of his still clean uniform in record time. Shouldering his bag he left just as his teammates were starting to file in. Ignoring their confused questions, he ducked his head and started the trek home alone.

 

Toxic thoughts swirled around Kenma’s head at a rapid rate. He didn’t understand why he felt this way. This wasn’t the first time Kuroo had chosen his girlfriend over Kenma. Of course it wasn’t; when people entered into new relationships their significant other normally eclipsed their other friendships for a time. It was common knowledge. And Kenma knew that, was fine with it. Or he had been, until he’d literally been ripped out of Kuroo’s arms and shoved to the side like an unwanted stray cat.

 

Before he realized exactly what was going on, Kenma found himself at his neighborhood park _. It is a nice day _ , he mused, and it wasn’t like he had anywhere else to be.  Abandoning his bag on the woodchips, Kenma climbed into the tallest tower, the one he’d been terrified of when he was a child until Kuroo had taken his hand and led him to the top, unwavering and steady.

 

Nestled in the curve of the long tunnel slide, Kenma blankly stared at his PSP, wondering why he wasn’t as absorbed in his new game as he normally would be. Video games had always been his escape from the world when reality turned unpleasant, so why was he unable to turn his brain off and dive head first into virtual reality like he normally did?

 

Giving up on getting anywhere in his game, Kenma powered the PSP off and let it drop to his chest with a dull thud. He closed his eyes briefly, enjoying how the heat of the sun was trapped in the tunnel slide, making Kenma feel warm and drowsy in the cool autumn afternoon. It was too much work, too painful to constantly think about Kuroo, Kuroo’s girlfriend, and how in love Kenma was with him. 

  
  


Kenma stayed inside the slide for a long time, alternating between a light doze and deep sleep. By the time he woke up and felt ready to head home it was pitch black outside. Biting his lip, he checked his PSP, wondering what time it was.

  
  


10:13 PM flashed across the screen.

  
  


Kenma stared at the time until the screen went dark again.  _ Oh no, no, no, _ he thought as his vision went slightly blurry and his breath caught in his chest at how late it was. His volleyball game ended at 11 am. He told his mother that he’d be home around noon, and that he’d probably be hungry, so make lunch please.  He immediately slid down the slide, fully intent on grabbing his bag, texting his mother, and running home as fast as he could, hoping he would only be grounded for a few weeks instead of months.

  
  


When his feet hit the wood chips Kenma lurched to his feet for half a second before collapsing in a heap at the base of the slide. Kenma groaned in pain as his legs cramped, used to being tucked close to his body. It took a few minutes before he was able to stand, legs still shaky. 

  
  


He stumbled around in the darkness for a bit, the only street light a hundred yards away at the entrance to the park. Scrambling around for his bag, Kenma felt panic reach out with shadowy fingers and choke him when he realized it wasn’t there. Tripping over his feet, he dropped to his knees and crawled around, hands sweeping desperately around the ground for something, _anything_. 

  
  


Giving up, Kenma forced himself to stand, and started running towards his house as fast as he could, figuring that if he sprinted he could make it home in under 5 minutes. But, because today was the personification of horse shit, he ran straight into the balance beam, tripped over it, and face planted in the grass.  Kenma stopped breathing when he hit the ground, the wind knocked out of him. His mind went blank for a minute, not registering the searing pain burning in his calf. He laid there for a moment, pressing his forehead to the cool, dewy grass. He bit his bottom lip harshly, trying not to burst out crying from the pain and frustration of the day. Eyes stinging, he took a deep breath and painfully stood back up, making sure his PSP was still in his pocket.

  
  


By the time Kenma made it home it was nearing 11. When his house finally came into view he started limping faster, anticipating his mother’s angry face and father’s disappointed frown. What he wasn’t expecting was the police car parked in his driveway, or that all the lights were turned on in both his and Kuroo’s houses. 

  
  


Mouth suddenly very dry and with a sinking feeling in his stomach, Kenma warily made his way to the front door and opened it slowly, mildly surprised that it was unlocked. The rush of conversation stopped abruptly at the click of the door, and before Kenma knew what was happening he was encircled by two arms and crushed to a hard chest, nose squashed against a familiar smelling shirt. 

  
  


“Oh my gosh. Thank god,  _ thank god _ . You’re here, you’re okay,” Kuroo blubbered into into Kenma’s ear before burying his face in the other’s hair.

  
  


Before Kenma could think of anything more than a stupid  _ this feels really nice _ , he was ripped from Kuroo’s arms and yanked to his mother’s bosum. “My baby’s alright,” she wailed, crushing Kenma closer to her. For the next few minutes Kenma was passed around a circle of warm bodies and hugged and cooed over by an uncomfortable number of people. It was like something out of a horror film, especially when Kuroo’s parents told him how relieved they were that he was safe and sound.

 

To top off his _wonderful, perfect, and totally awesome_ day, Kenma was quickly ushered into the kitchen, where two police officers sat at the breakfast bar. Kenma immediately felt lightheaded, and only Kuroo’s firm hand grasping his shoulder kept him from collapsing into a puddle of fear and anxiety on the floor. Both officers stood when he entered. The woman on the right was young, blond, and very intimidating. Kenma ducked his head shyly when her steely gaze narrowed on him, pinning him in place. 

“So you’re Kozume Kenma.” It wasn’t a question, but he nodded dumbly regardless. “Your parents called us a few hours ago when your friend over there found your bag abandoned near a park. They believed that you were abducted because you hadn’t made contact with anyone and were gone hours after you told them you would be home.” 

 

Kenma physically blanched while she kept going. “Normally someone must be gone for 24 hours before we can investigate them as a missing person, but since you are a minor that rule is waived.” She continued to scold him for another minute or two, but to Kenma it seemed like hours before she stopped lecturing him about wasting police resources and being more responsible. Her partner, a sturdy man with a bushy beard, nodded absently next to her while checking his watch, evidently anxious to leave and get back to work.

 

“So you’ll let your folks know where you are from now on, okay son? You gave everyone here quite the scare when you disappeared.” The officer was stern, but had kind eyes that made Kenma feel slightly better about the whole situation. 

 

“Yes sir, I will. I’m very sorry about the inconvenience and waste of your time,” Kenma said, positive his face was bright red. The female officer nodded in agreement while her partner laughed good-naturedly before clasping her shoulder and ushering her out before she could launch into another tirade about “wasting police resources.” 

 

The kitchen descended into a frightful silence with the absence of the police officers. Kema felt that his mother’s fear and relief was rapidly turning into anger. Knowing time was of the essence he turned abruptly to the Kuroos and bowed, long and deep.

 

“I’m very sorry for causing you any distress. This whole situation is my fault, and I hope you can forgive me in time.” He made eye contact with both of Kuroo’s parents before fixing his eyes on his best friend.    
  


 

Kuroo looked at him the same way his mother had; a mixture of fear, anger, and overwhelming relief. But while his mother made him feel terribly guilty for being so careless and causing her worry, Kuroo’s gaze made him feel almost sick to his stomach about his carelessness.

  
  


“Kenma, dear, we’re just so glad you’re alright,” Kuroo’s mother sighed as she wrapped him up in a hug. “You’re like a second son to us, I don’t know what we’d do without you.” Kenma’s eyes filled with tears at her words, the guilt swirling in his stomach so strong he felt nauseous.    
  


 

Clearly sensing his distress, the Kuroos took their leave, promising to check up in the morning. Kuroo lingered for a moment, opening his mouth to say something, before shaking his head and following his parents after his father’s call of “Tetsurou, it’s late, hurry up.”

  
  


When the front door closed Kenma turned to face his parents, unsure of what to expect. This was the first time he had ever done anything wrong in his life, not counting that time when he and Kuroo accidentally set their mothers' shared garden on fire with a magnifying glass when they were 8. That was all Kuroo’s fault anyway. 

 

Unsurprisingly, his father didn’t say much. Merely stated that he was disappointed at Kenma’s irresponsibility, and that disappearing was extremely out of character for him. He hugged Kenma briefly, said that he was happy that he was alright, and retreated.  Kenma knew his mother would be the more challenging one to face. Where his father was soft-spoken and shy, like him, his mother was feisty, extroverted, and not afraid to let people know what she thought of them. Her son was no exception.

  
  


“Where were you today?” she asked, dangerously calm with a glint in her golden eyes.

  
  


Kenma fought his natural urge to stare at the ground, knowing that she wouldn’t appreciate his antisocial tendencies tonight. “I was at the park where Kuro found my bag. I was in a slide playing video games, which is why he didn’t see me. I fell asleep, too, which is why I got home so late. I’m sorry.”

  
  


She blinked, evidently not expecting that. Kenma’s father gave his a small, amused smile before schooling his features into a disappointed frown when his wife glanced back at him. After a moment of surveying him she sighed. “Your father and I need to talk about your punishment. You may go to your room.”

  
  


Kenma nearly bolted up the stairs, relieved that judgement day had been postponed for a few minutes. He threw himself on his bed gingerly, not turning on his light. If his lights were on he had no doubt Kuroo would be at his window in a heartbeat, demanding to know what was going on. So when Kuroo’s voice blared through the walkie-talkie on his bedside table and he heard the soft  _ plunk _ of acorns hitting glass Kenma almost jumped a foot in surprise.

  
  


“I saw the hallway light when you opened your door,” Kuroo’s voice came through the walkie-talkie tinny and annoyed. “If you want to avoid me you’re going to have to try harder than that. Open your window, Kenma.” Kenma ignored him in favor of burying his face in a pillow.

  
  


He jerked his head up when Kuroo said, “If you’re going to be so stubborn, then I’m coming over.” Groaning, Kenma threw the walkie-talkie onto his desk before reluctantly making his way to his window and throwing it open, getting there just in time to see Kuroo’s ass sticking out of his window, his legs kicking in the air as they tried in vain to grow long enough to find purchase against Kenma’s window.

  
  


“What are you doing,” Kenma sighed, leaning on his elbow to watch Kuroo’s struggles.

 

“I was clearly trying to sneak into your room, but I underestimated the distance,” Kuroo whined, slowly inching his way back inside. Soon enough Kuroo face planted on his carpet, safe and sound. His head popped back up, hair in an even bigger disarray than usual. 

  
  


“Okay, what the hell, Kenma? First you leave the game without talking to anyone, then I find your bag abandoned by the park with your phone in it, no trace of you anywhere. What happened?” 

  
  


Kenma didn’t know what to say. Kuroo had never been angry at him before. Irritated that he wouldn’t play volleyball with him because he was busy with video games, yes. But never angry. He swallowed heavily before meeting Kuroo’s gaze. “It was an accident. I just didn’t feel like going home so I went to the park. I didn’t mean to fall asleep but I guess I was tired from the game.” 

  
  


“I understand falling asleep in a slide . . . kind of. Actually, I really don’t, but that’s not the point. What I don’t get is why you didn’t wait after the game. You  _ never _ miss the coach’s post game speech. Were you feeling sick? And why didn’t you at least tell me you were leaving? I’m confused, Kenma.”

  
  


Meeting Kuroo’s shrewd gaze became impossible. How could Kenma tell him the reason for everyone’s distress was because Kenma was jealous. Of Kuroo’s perfect girlfriend, whom everyone adored, even his parents. Words froze in his throat as he stared in misery at Kuroo’s stupidly handsome face, creased in worry and annoyance.

  
  


It was tempting, too tempting, to just blurt out a love confession in that moment. All his bottled up feelings were starting to take a toll on Kenma, if his semi-break down earlier was any indication. Having everything be out in the open would clear his conscious, if only momentarily. Sure, the only real friendship he’s ever had would probably go to hell in a handbasket, but at least he wouldn’t be keeping secrets anymore and making himself miserable in the process.

  
  


“I’m sorry, Kuro. Sometimes I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” Kenma choked out after a long pause. He tried to say more but couldn’t think of anything, head blank and ears buzzing. 

  
  


“Hey, nothing’s wrong with you.” Kurro was leaning dangerously far out of his window again, trying to calm down his best friend, his voice very soft. “Shit, Kenma I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you feel bad. It’s just that when you were missing I was absolutely terrified that something had happened to you. I never want to feel like that again, it was horrible. Oh fuck, don’t cry. I’m sorry, I’m such an asshole.” Kenma wasn’t crying, his eyes were just stinging and his lips were quivering a little. 

  
  


“I’m coming over, give me a minute.” Before Kenma could tell him that there was no way in hell his parents would allow him in through the front door, Kuroo was gone. But he was back a moment later, clutching a rope.

  
  


“Nope,” Kenma said, moving to shut his window. “No way.”

  
  


“Keeeeenma wait,” Kuroo yelped. “Look, if I wrap it around my dresser and you wrap it around your desk it’ll be totally safe and it won’t fall. I’ll be over in like 2 seconds. C’mon!”

  
  


“Did Bokuto come up with this, too?” Kenma deadpanned, terrified that Kuroo was actually thinking of shimmying along a rope 20 feet off the ground.

  
  


“Ha ha, no. This one’s all me. Watch out!” Kenma let out a small grunt when coils of rope slammed into his shoulder. “I already attached my end, so now you have to do yours. You could probably just hold it really tight, I trust you.”

  
  


Kenma quickly realized that this wasn’t a shitty joke meant to make him feel better, and that Kuroo was serious when he started to climb out the window, head first this time. “Kuroo!” Kenma yelped as he bolted to his bed and tied the end of the rope around the frame several times. By the time he got back to his window Kuroo’s whole body was on the rope, upside down as he scampered gracelessly across.

  
  


Kenma closed his eyes and tried not to hyperventilate. Kuroo had done some stupid things in the course of their friendship, but this was by far the most dangerous. “Kenma, I’m stuck!” Kuroo shrieked. Kenma’s eyes flew open and he poked his head out, looking down in terror. Kuroo’s grinning, upside down face greeted him, dark red from exertion and blood. “Just kidding.” 

  
  


Just as Kenma was about to cut the rope in revenge, a knock sounded on his door. Kuroo and Kenma froze, both looking at each other with twin expressions of sheer panic. “Kenma? Sweetie, can we come in? We want to talk to you.”

  
  


“J-just a minute, please. I’m . . . changing.” Kenya said, voice thin and high. If his parents caught them they were  _ dead _ . His mother would probably sell the house and move across the street.

  
  


The next 30 seconds were a blur. Kuroo started to backtrack towards his house before realizing that Kenma’s was much closer, causing him to scramble up the rope at an unsafe speed. The minute he was within reach Kenma grabbed a handful of his hair and yanked him inside. They both fell to their knees in front of his bed and tore at the knot, trying to untie it. Another knock sounded.

  
  


“Kenma, is everything alright in there?” His mother sounded much less patient this time around. 

  
  


“Is this a bad time? Are you not . . . decent?” His father asked a moment later, awkwardly. 

  
  


Both boys froze just as the knot came undone, staring at each other in horror. Did his father seriously think that he was . . . Kenma couldn’t even finish the thought. “YES, dad. I just got cold and I’m putting on a sweater!” Kenma yelled, face a brilliant shade of fuchsia.

  
  


Gagging, Kuroo threw the rope out of the window before dashing to Kenma’s small closet and squeezing himself in behind dusty sweatshirts and once-worn suits. Closing Kuroo in, Kenma sprinted to the door and threw it open to reveal his fuming mother and sympathetic father.

  
  


Their visit to his room was brief and awkward. They once again illustrated how disappointed in him they were, and handed out a punishment: no handheld games for a month, and the wifi would be turned off every night at 10 pm sharp for the foreseeable future. Kenma didn’t even try to argue, too desperate to get them to leave before Kuroo gave them away by groaning in pain from being in such a cramped area for too long. 

  
  


After they finally left Kenma let Kuroo out before collapsing on his mattress, wanting nothing more than to go to sleep. Kuroo, who sensed that Kenma wasn’t in a mood to be teased, merely said that he could use his wifi at night. The signal reached since their houses were built during a time period when people didn’t seem to believe in privacy.

 

“Let’s get you to bed,” Kuroo said, eyes soft when Kenma didn’t answer except for a small snuggle into his pillow. “Tomorrow will be better.” Kuroo nudged Kenma over a bit and crawled into the bed, pressing their backs together.

 

“Goodnight, Kuro,” Kenma mumbled, ignoring the itch to turn around cuddle up to the other’s broad back.

 

“Mmmmm, G’night Kenma.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this was ok, next update this weekend!


	3. Laughing on a park bench

Sighing, Kenma sat down outside Kuroo’s front step, nose buried in his phone. If Kuroo had any one flaw it would be his incessant tardiness. After what Kuroo ominously dubbed “The Incident” last week, he stuck to Kenma like glue, never leaving his side except to go to class and attend pre-scheduled dates with Naomi. He even tried to follow Kenma into the bathroom once or twice, much to his chagrin.

  
Kuroo’s front door opened abruptly, nearly hitting Kenma in the face. Kuroo stumbled out a minute later, biting an apple. “Hey,” he said, crouching down next to Kenma, knees cracking. “New game?”

  
“Mmmmm,” Kenma hummed, not looking up until he felt Kuroo’s fingers slide into his hair absentmindedly. He didn’t realize that he had frozen until his character’s head detached from its body with a grotesque squirt of blood. Kenma stood, shoving his phone in his pocket while Kuroo complained about how much work it was to stand up. Hopping down the steps Kenma waited patiently for Kuroo to finally get his ass off the ground. They had a schedule to keep, after all.

  
It was their first Saturday morning free of volleyball practice since the beginning of the year, and Kuroo was determined to enjoy it, which meant that Kenma was by association also forced to enjoy it. Instead of sleeping in, eating a late breakfast, and staying inside his room all day like he’d planned, Kenma was forced out of his house at 11 am by his best friend to travel to an undisclosed location in the name of "adventure."

  
Kenma knew that if Kuroo wasn’t telling him where they were going then he was 100% guaranteed to hate it. This was the case for countless trips to the mall, the grocery store, and, worst of all, parties. Kenma hated everything about parties from the too loud music to the too drunk people, who were more often than not crass and hands. But Kenma was fairly certain they weren’t headed to a rager, since it was before noon. And he didn’t believe that Kuroo hated him enough to drag him shopping on one of their rare days off.

  
Veering to the left, Kuroo made quick strides towards the shed half hidden by a willow tree in the corner of his small backyard. After detouring to pick off some of the paint on the siding and tripping over a shrub, Kuroo flung the door open with a protesting screech.

  
Kenma had seen the insides of the Kuroo family shed many times. It was a popular hiding place during hide and seek when they were younger, and it housed all the sporting equipment Kuroo had been obsessed with over the years, from soccer balls to baseball bats to a splintered skate board. It always looked like a small tornado had run through it, and even though Kuroo’s mother swore every spring that this was the year the shed would be cleaned out, it never quite happened.

  
Standing in the doorframe, Kenma stared as Kuroo jumped over an upturned trash can and crashed into a bucket holding jump ropes. Letting out an excited, “Ah-ha!” Kuroo reached up and grabbed a bike from the rack on the far wall. Kenma stared at the muscles flexing beneath his shirt as he hoisted the bike up. “Kenma, get over here and take this.” Snapped out of his daze, Kenma crossed the floor with infinitely more care than his best friend and carefully guided the bicycle out of the shed and into the grass.

  
“Right,” Kuroo said after he gracelessly stumbled out of the shed, kicking the door shut behind him. Kenma tried not to stare at the white dust settling on his dark hair and the untucked shirt sticking to his abs. “Do you want front or back?” Confused, Kenma looked at Kuroo and then the bike. Further investigation revealed that the bicycle was actually a tandem, with two sets of handlebars, two seats, and three wheels.

  
“Why?” Kenma asked blandly, staring at the tandem bike with disgust.

  
“It’s good for bonding,” Kuroo grinned lazily. “And my little brothers crashed the normal bikes so we can’t use those. So if you don’t mind, I’ll take the front. The handlebars are higher.” Kenma quickly climbed behind Kuroo so he wouldn’t see the smile threatening to break out. One had to keep some of his dignity, after all.

  
Tandem biking with Kuroo, was, to put it lightly, an utter disaster. Kenma was incapable of keeping up with the speed Kuroo demanded, and when they tried to slow down the bike would wobble dangerously, threatening to tip over. Eventually Kenma leaned back and lifted his legs off the pedals, letting Kuroo pedal them towards wherever they were going. He felt a little guilty when he heard Kuroo panting heavily as “they” pedaled up a steep hill, shouting encouragement at Kenma to “Keep going! Almost there!”

  
Cresting the steep hill, Kuroo stopped to catch his breath and look back at Kenma. “Geez, you’re really fit, I guess volleyball practice is good for something after all, huh?” he teased. Kenma immediately started breathing heavily, and wiped some nonexistent sweat from his forehead while nodding.

  
“Well, we’re here, so let’s just dump this in the grass.” Kuroo swung his long legs over the saddle of the bike and waited for Kenma to scamper off before he unceremoniously let the bike crash to the ground, the back tire spinning sadly. “Okay, if it breaks maybe dad will buy us an actual bike,” Kuroo said under Kenma’s unappreciative glance. “C’mon.”

  
Kenma turned and followed Kuroo, who ignored the concrete path in favor of ducking under a tree branch and disappearing into foliage. After a few minutes of walking the trees thinned and the dirt path they were trudging along widened and abruptly became paved. Kenma bumped into Kuroo, who had stopped walking without warning and was staring ahead. Kenma understood, because he had been staring, too. At Kuroo’s ass.

  
The sight in front of him wasn’t quite as glorious as Kuroo’s derriere, but it was a close second. A swinging bench was to their right, which overlooked sloping green hills and open fields for as far as Kenma could see. If he squinted he thought he could see a barn and horse pasture in the distance, like this was some sort of movie about a country boy finding unlikely love with a city girl.

  
“Well?” Kuroo was beaming, staring at Kenma’s face. “I found this a few weeks ago on one of my runs. Isn’t it spectacular?”

  
Kenma was never one for the outdoors. But even he could admit that this view was pretty amazing. “It is,” he breathed, turning to Kuroo, eyes shining and lips curled up.

“That’s not even the best part!” Kuroo cried theatrically, ushering Kenma over to the bench, which was old and wooden and creaky and made Kenma’s heart race with how romantic it was. “Get out your phone,” he said before starting to rock the swing back and forth in a soothing way.

  
Kenma was confused (Kuroo normally begged him to put his phone away), but nonetheless dutifully took his phone out. Kuroo snatched it quickly, typed in the password, and shielded the screen from Kenma’s gaze while he fiddled with something. “Bingo,” he smiled before handing Kenma his phone back with a huge grin.

  
It took a moment for Kenma to realize what he was looking at, but when it registered he gave a quiet gasp and looked at Kuroo in wonder, who was trying his best not to look too smug. “You didn’t.”

  
“I did! I wanted to surprise you!” Kuroo practically vibrated the bench, he was so pleased.

  
On Kenma’s phone Pokemon Go was pulled up, showcasing a bright yellow gym with only one trainer. _CoolKuroo01_ stared back at him from the screen, a level 300 Oddish displayed proudly next to him.

  
“I don’t think anyone else comes here, because I’ve controlled with place for a few days now, and I know that that’s not a very strong Pokemon, right?” Kenma nodded. “But hey, I now control the _Lover’s Bench Gym_ , so that’s something I can put on my college apps.” Ah, so that’s what this swinging chunk of wood was called.

  
Kenma demanded to see his Pokedex, and Kuroo reluctantly passed over his phone, defensively saying he’d just started playing. Besides the Oddish Kuroo was the proud owner of 6 Pidgies, a Bulbasaur, 2 Weedles, and a Magikarp. It was adorable, really, especially when compared to Kenma’s frankly freakishly expansive collection. Kenma decided, as Kuroo cooed over one of his Weedles, that he would let him keep this gym. For now.

  
They sat on the bench for a while, sometimes talking and sometimes saying nothing. When Kuroo started to jiggle his leg Kenma suggested they walk down to the distant fields and search for more Pokemon. And maybe hatch an egg or two.

  
Getting to the field was wildly entertaining. Kuroo rolled down every hill they came across, and Kenma would be damned if he didn’t follow the example, much to his best friend’s amusement. Besides having an impromptu water fight in a small creek, both boys grabbed fallen branches and took turns leading the other in pointless circles, speaking in terrible British accents about their “quest to find a worthy steed.”

  
Once they finally made it to the fence that enclosed the herd of horses, Kuroo almost ran away screaming when one walked over to them, looking curious. “Hello, mighty steed,” Kenma said playfully, stroking its nose and keeping an eye on Kuroo to make sure he didn’t injure himself in his panic.

  
“Kuro, take a picture,” Kenma ordered when he had calmed down some. “No, I want you to be in it, too, come over here,” he said when Kuroo tried to stand a healthy distance away. Grumpling, Kuroo gingerly approached the horse before quickly bending his knees to be even with Kenma and flipping his camera to be front facing. “Cheese,” Kenma said drolly, smiling slightly. As soon as the picture was taken Kuroo bolted, shrieking about the horse and how big and scary it was.

  
Giving the animal one last affectionate pat, Kenma started walking back towards Kuroo, who had finally stopped sprinting, and the hill, the swing nothing but a dark dot in the distance.

  
***

  
“Finally home,” Kuroo groaned as they pedaled past the sign to their neighborhood. Kenma hummed in response, his back cramping from leaning back so far so he wouldn’t have to help pedal. Kuroo said something Kenma missed before abruptly looking back, seeing Kenma clearly not pedaling.

  
Kuroo stopped the bike so abruptly the tires squealed and Kenma nearly flew off. Regaining his balance in the nick of time, he started running for his house before Kuroo grabbed his arm and put him in a headlock.

“YOU DORK! No wonder the ride back was so damn hard.” Kenma laughed wildly when Kuroo let go of his neck in favor of poking his ribs. “Say you’re sorry!” Kuroo’s tickling intensified.

  
“Sorry, I’m sorry! But I saw you eating that cupcake during the picnic and I thought you could use the workout,” Kenma choked out between giggles, squirming out of Kuroo’s grasp and onto the grass.

  
Kuroo plunked down next to him, laughing deeply and staring at Kenma intently. “What?” Kenma murmured, deciding that staring at the stars was easier than staring into Kuroo’s eyes.

  
“When did you tie your hair back?” Kuroo leaned up on his forearms, eyes lingering on Kenma’s ponytail before sliding down to examine his face.

  
“When you were biking up that third, really steep hill. You looked sweaty and I wanted to be sympathetic.”

  
Kenma was on his feet racing away from Kuroo the minute the words were out of his mouth. They ran around both their yards for a while, taking turns chasing each other when Kuroo forgot what he was supposed to be mad about. They called truce by Kuroo’s garage, both leaning heavily against the chipped white metal.

  
“It looks good,” Kuroo said. “You hair,” he clarified softly at Kenma’s confused frown. His hand moved slowly to Kenma’s fringe, which had escaped the tie. “You should wear it like that more often, especially during games.”

  
I don’t even play during games, Kenma tried to say. His voice didn’t seem to be working, however, and he was paralyzed, unable to move, as Kuroo mindlessly played with his hair before slowly tucking a strand behind his ear. His body was buzzing, all his nerve endings seeming to concentrate in the one area where Kuroo’s palm had frozen against his cheek.

  
They stared at each other for an indefinite amount of time, neither pulling away. Crickets buzzed quietly around them, and Kenma could just make out Kuroo’s features in the soft, yellow light of the street lamp. Strong jaw, dark eyes, messy hair. He looked so, _so_ beautiful.

  
Just as Kenma was about to say fuck it and move closer, a car pulled into the driveway, blinding them with the headlights. Muffled music blared as a window was rolled down and a voice screeched from the driver’s seat. “Kuroo, come on! The party started at 7, let’s go.”

  
Kenma practically flew away from Kuroo, scampering back until he was out of the light and back in the shadows. His scalp twinged in discomfort; some of his hair was probably stuck in Kuroo’s fingers he had ripped himself away so fast.

  
“Yeah, I’m coming Naomi, give me a sec,” Kuroo said, clenching his fist and staring intently at Kenma. Kenma gave a small wave to Naomi, which she did not not return, choosing instead to glare at him while blowing a bubble with her gum.

  
“Sorry Kenma, I totally forgot I promised Naomi I’d hang out with her tonight. Rain check on the video games and movies, okay?” Kuroo smiled at him before Naomi beeped her horn, evidently antsy to get going.

  
Kenma watched as Kuroo made his way over to the passenger seat and climbed in. A loud surge of pop music spilled into the cool night before the door slammed and the noise was muffled once more. The car backed out of the driveway, leaving Kenma standing alone in the dark. Instead of immediately driving off, Naomi stopped once they had pulled out onto the street, and Kuroo rolled his window down. “Hey, Kenma, do you think you could put the bike back in the shed for me? Thanks, I owe you one, bro.”

  
And just like that they were gone, taillights disappearing into the night, the muffled thump of the bass slowly bleeding away. _Bro?_ Kenma thought sourly as he picked up the discarded tandem bike and slowly wheeled it into Kuroo’s backyard, praying that nobody thought he was breaking and entering. Kuroo never called him “bro,” he reserved that right exclusively for Bokuto and random acquaintances at school. Kenma knew he was no Bokuto, and he hoped that he meant more to Kuroo than random guys at school, but as he attempted to fit the bike back in the shed without Kuroo’s help, he suddenly wasn’t so sure.

  
Still unsure of how such a perfect day had gone to complete shit in the span of a few minutes, Kenma trudged back to his house. Ignoring the plate of dinner set out for him by his mother, he slowly made his way to his room, not feeling hungry despite not having eaten anything all day except the few things Kuroo smuggled with him on the bike ride. Kenma tried to shake himself out of his funk, but for once being alone with his video games didn’t improve his mood, it just made him feel even more pathetic and unwanted.

  
Suddenly feeling exhausted, Kenma closed his computer and put it on his desk. He changed quickly into his pajamas and crawled into bed. Staring blankly at his ceiling for a bit, the shadow of his fluttering curtains caught his eye. Kenma couldn’t remember the last time he’d closed his window to Kuroo. Even during the winter when it became bitterly cold, and during the summer when the sun rose early and woke them criminally early, the window stayed open just in case one ever needed the other.

  
Feeling something different tonight, Kenma threw his blankets off of himself before stalking over to the window. Glaring daggers at Kuroo’s empty room, Kenma firmly reached up and slid his window closed, letting the blinds fall and tugging the curtains into place, feeling even more alone and upset than before.

 


	4. Been here the whole time

Kenma found himself rudely awoken at around 4 am by a dull thud against his window. At first he thought it was part of his dream, an abstract sound conjured up by his half-unconscious mind, remnants of a grand adventure found only in unconsciousness. When a second and third bang followed in quick succession, he startled awake, sitting upright and whipping his head towards the noise, fast enough to make himself dizzy and get hair caught in his mouth. Spitting out strands and groaning sleepily, he realized that the source of the noise was coming from his window,

 

Burying his face underneath the blankets, Kenma tried in vain to block out Kuroo’s attempts to get his attention. His heart raced in victory when the thuds against his window abruptly stopped, hoping that Kuroo had given up and would let him get back to sleep, understanding that he was not in the mood to talk at the moment. His hope was quickly dashed when his phone started to vibrate loudly on his bedside table.

 

Kenma snatched the phone up before dropping it quickly, hissing at the bright screen. Fumbling in the dark, he managed to hit a button that silenced the loud vibrations before powering it off completely, knowing that Kuroo wouldn’t give up after only one missed call. Dropping his phone, he rolled onto his back, suddenly wide awake. Resigning himself to another long hour of restless thoughts, Kenma closed his eyes and flopped onto his stomach.

 

He must have dozed off for a while, until a soft creaking woke him from his light slumber. It was the sound of his bedroom door opening. Confused as to why his mother or father was creeping into his room in the middle of the night, Kenma blearily cracked an eye open, groaning in confusion, wishing he could just be left in peace to get some sleep and forget about his shitty day.

  

“Mom?” he murmured quietly, lifting his head from his pillow and squinting in the darkness. A dark shadow crept across the room, causing Kenma to fumble for his bedside lamp, still half asleep, and still terribly confused as to why his mother was in his room at early o’clock in the morning. Heavy footsteps made their way over the threshold, and Kenma suddenly sat up, quietly alarmed. His mother’s footsteps weren’t that loud, and her shadow definitely wasn’t that large.

  

Before Kenma could decide whether he wanted to scream bloody murder or not, the shadow collapsed across his legs with a strangled groan and a choked sounding giggle. His fear immediately dissipated and was replaced with a mixture of relief and irritation. Kenma would recognize that laugh anywhere.

  

“Kuroo,” he hissed, fumbling for the lamp on his bedside table. Kuroo let out a high pitched squeal before squirming up to bury his head between Kenma’s pillows, trying to avoid the brightness. Kenma wrinkled his nose as the smell hit him. Kuroo _reeked_ of alcohol.  

 

“What were you doing at that party?” Kenma didn’t know why he bothered to ask. The evidence was laying across his bed, hair in an even bigger disarray than usual, smelling of booze, and missing the laces on one of his shoes. “And how did you get into my house?”

 

Kenma suddenly felt very, very uncomfortable. He obviously knew that people drank, and that kids his age liked to go out and “have fun” as his mother often said before shooting him a hopeful look as he escaped to the tranquility of his bedroom on yet another uneventful Friday night. But Kuroo had never done anything like that before. Or if he had, he’d hidden it very well from his best friend.

 

Kuroo’s sudden movement startled Kenma out of his thoughts. Sitting up, he violently rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands before running his fingers though his hair with a loopy smile. “KENMA! Your house key is still under the plant, after all these years!” he exclaimed as if he only just realized that the other boy was in the room. Kenma shushed him frantically, rushing to close his bedroom door. He said a quick prayer that his father’s incessant snoring would cover any future noises Kuroo would inevitably make. If his mother found Kuroo completely plastered while Kenma attempted to nurse him back to health, things would not be pretty.

 

“Kenma,” Kuroo grabbed his wrist and pulled him onto the bed. “Kenma,” he repeated for a third time, hands wandering up to his shoulders. Kenma tried to ignore how his heart was suddenly in his throat, pulse hammering in his ears as Kuroo’s thumbs lightly brushed along his exposed skin.

  

“You’re my best friend, you know,” Kuroo said very carefully, painstakingly articulating each word so it didn’t come out a slurred, incoherent mess. “You’re so special. Sooooo special to me, Kenma.” He started to tip forward, face-planting against Kenma’s chest before nuzzling into it, like a lazily satisfied housecat. Kenma panicked briefly, afraid that Kuroo would be able to feel his unnaturally fast heartbeat. He quickly realized that Kuroo was so far gone that he couldn’t even keep track of his own shoelaces, much less remember if Kenma’s heartrate was slightly elevated.

  

Coming to a decision, Kenma disentangled Kuroo’s arms from around his waist, and eased backwards until Kuroo was sprawled across his bed, staring up at him with heavily lidded eyes. Stomping down the heat pooling in his stomach, Kenma worked off Kuroo’s shoes and tossed them into a corner. He started to unbutton his jeans, but chickened out and moved onto his jacket and stuffy looking dress shirt instead.

 

With most of his clothes removed, Kuroo started to shiver, and moved to get under the comforter. Kenma grabbed his arm, and dragged him to his feet. Ignoring his whining (and the drool-worthy abs on full display), Kenma marched them to the bathroom, and turned the shower on, cheeks flaming. “You reek. You can’t sleep in my bed if you don’t shower. You know where the towels and your extra sweatpants are.”

 

Leaving the bathroom hastily, he collapsed face down on his bed before pulling away with a grimace. His pillows smelled like a mixture of alcohol and Kuroo’s cologne. One smell he loved. One he did not. Sighing, Kenma snuggled under his covers and listened to the steady flow of water through the pipes, trying his hardest not to think of a naked, wet Kuroo 10 feet away.

 

Kenma was awoken from his light doze by the door quietly squeaking open again. Soft footsteps padded over to the bed before stopping. After a long pause, the blankets lifted briefly and a warm body slid in next to Kenma, smelling like fresh laundry and soap. They lay in silence for a long while, both teetering on the cusp of unconsciousness. Kuroo eventually broke the tranquility, his words coming slow and quiet and meaningful in the hazy silence of the early morning.

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

He didn’t sound drunk anymore, but Kenma wasn’t sure it was possible for someone to go from completely plastered to sober over the course of 20 minutes and a cold shower. He made a mental note to google it later.

 

“For what?” Kenma kept his tone neutral and his face turned away from Kuroo, knowing that if he saw him sleepy and relaxed and unguarded he wouldn’t be able to keep up his justifiable frustration, and would instead melt into a love struck puddle and forgive him without any groveling. And Kenma expected groveling, especially after how his evening had ended. 

 

“God, I don’t know. For being a shitty friend, I guess,” Kuroo mumbled into his pillow. Satisfied with the groveling, Kenma started to turn over, before Kuroo continued.

 

“But more specifically for ditching you. I know that we haven’t had a chance to hang out alone in a really long time, and that yesterday was supposed to be a day just for us. And I ruined that, I didn’t tell you that Naomi wanted to go out, I just left you. And I know it hurt your feelings, I’m not that obtuse.”

 

Kenma sucked in a breath and rolled to face Kuroo, the room so dark he could only make out his gold eyes, half shut from fatigue, but shining with purpose.

  

“And that’s the reason why I’m here. I felt so damn guilty all evening, and I couldn’t get you out of my head. That’s why I overdid it with the drinking, I think. To try and lessen my guilt. And Naomi was annoying the hell out of me; it was the only way to get her to shut up.

  

“But that’s why I came here. I really wanted to see you, and say sorry. So sorry, Kenma, that I’m a horrible friend and that I made you put the bike away by yourself. That must’ve sucked, our shed is so disorganized, and it’s really hard to move things around in there, especially in the dark.” Kenma reached up and lightly poked where he assumed Kuroo’s cheek was.

  

“Stop it, I’m not mad anymore. I’m just glad you’re home safe.” That was the wrong thing to say, as Kuroo immediately wailed and threw his arms around Kenma, squeezing him tightly.

 

“That’s so nice of you, Kenma. You’re just so nice. I’m glad I’m home, too.” _Still drunk_ , Kenma thought, resting his head on Kuroo’s strong chest, arms snaking around his back and settling at his waist. “You’re so much nicer than Naomi. Like, way nicer than her.”

 

“Why?” Kenma didn’t realize he’d asked the question out loud until Kuroo was nuzzling his hair aside and speaking quietly into his ear.

 

“Naomi is nice, too, I guess. But, like, a different kind of nice, y’know? She wouldn’t let me crash at her place at 4 am without a thought. I mean, I had to walk home because she was too drunk to drive and she wanted to crash at the house where the party was. But I didn’t really know anyone there except her, and I didn’t want to spend the night surrounded by wasted strangers. It really sucked,” Kuroo ranted, quickly losing his train of thought. “The whole time I was wishing I was back here with you, playing video games or watching a move. 

 

“But Naomi! She’s nice, but she isn’t kind like you are, Kenma. You don’t talk a lot, but your actions speak louder than words, y’know? Like sometimes you pet stray cats even though everyone thinks they have rabies, or you’ll sit next to kids  who no one else will sit next to at lunch. Naomi would just ignore them, I think.”

  

“Then why are you dating her?” Kenma’s question slipped out and interrupted Kuroo’s tirade before he knew what he was asking. Kuroo immediately fell silent, either taken aback or pondering his answer.

  

“Because she’s really pretty, and confident, and everyone thinks we look good together. Oh, and she smells nice sometimes.” 

 

Kenma waited for him to continue, to take a breath and explain in greater detail why exactly he was in a relationship with this girl. Maybe how he felt tingles in his stomach whenever she was around, or that her smile caused butterflies to erupt and disperse throughout his body. Describe the feelings that Kenma himself experienced whenever Kuroo so much as looked at him. “Is that it?” he asked, somewhat taken aback.

  

“Ummm . . . yeah. I guess my mom doesn’t like her very much, either. And that’s about it, really. We’ve only known each other for 2 months, you know.”

 

A strange kind of quiet crept over the room. A quiet neither had experienced when in the other’s company before. It was strained. Awkward. _Terrible_.

  

All the words Kenma wanted to say to Kuroo, all the feelings and confessions he had bottled up inside himself for so, _so_ long were hovering somewhere around his throat. It would be so easy to simply open his mouth and confess that he was in love with Kuroo, that he had been for his whole life, and that only recently has he been brave enough to admit it. Let the words spill out, uncaring of the consequences they would have in the morning. Because in that moment Kenma was more than just tired, he was exhausted. Exhausted of pretending to be okay with Kuroo being in a relationship with someone he barely liked, exhausted of trying and failing at everything from social interactions to volleyball. But most of all he was exhausted of being a coward.

 

Just as Kenma opened his mouth to say something – _anything_ –  Kuroo gave an exaggerated yawn and flipped onto his stomach. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore. My head hurts, I just want to go to sleep.”

 

Kenma’s words left him all at one, the confession he had been so confident about only moments before crumbling and falling to pieces before him. “Okay. Good night,” he said before flipping onto his side away from Kuroo and his feelings.

   
“G’night, kitten,” Kuroo mumbled before burying his head beneath the pillows, leaving Kenma to stare unblinkingly at his wall until the first rays of the sun’s light started to creep in between his firmly shut curtains.


	5. I think I know where you belong

Kenma didn’t see Kuroo again until Monday morning. He was standing at the end of Kenma’s driveway, same as always, chewing halfheartedly at a granola bar. His hair was in an even bigger disarray than usual, and Kenma’s fingers itched to touch it. “Hey,” he greeted, looking tired and slightly embarrassed, staring at his shoes.

 

Kenma hummed in greeting, and they started off towards school, sleep still heavy in their eyes, shoulders hunched from heavy backpacks. Kenma broke the silence after they had been walking for several blocks. “I assume we’re not talking about Sunday morning, then.”

 

“No way in hell,” Kuroo agreed with a smirk, the first sign of normalcy Kenma had seen since Saturday evening. They walked in a comfortable silence, occasionally broken by Kuroo’s confusing and disjointed musings about life and complaints about their schoolwork.

 

Upon arriving at the school gates, Kuroo didn’t immediately peel off to find Naomi like usual, but rather kept walking with Kenma until they reached his classroom. Turning, Kenma raised an eyebrow delicately. “What?” Kuroo asked defensively.

 

“Why did you walk me to class?”

 

Kuroo blinked and looked mildly offended. “I always walk you to class.”

 

“No you don’t, Kenma said bluntly. “You used to, until you got together with Naomi. Now you never do anymore.” Kenma immediately regretted his harsh words, especially when Kuroo’s eyes widened in shock and hurt twisted his mouth. But he was sick of being ignored in favor of Naomi, and he had a bad habit of bottling up his emotions until he just snapped. It was a very healthy way of dealing with feelings.

 

“Kenma,” Kuroo breathed, taking a step towards him. “I’m sorry,” he started to say before stopping to consider his next words. “I didn’t think you’d noticed.” Kenma almost laughed out loud. He wouldn’t notice that his only friend had suddenly stopped hanging out with him? They stood in an uncomfortable silence until the bell rang a few moments later. Mumbling that he had to get to class, Kuroo awkwardly clasped Kenma on the shoulder before fleeing towards the second-year classrooms, not looking back.

 

Kenma found his desk and forcefully plopped down, letting his forehead rest against the cool, artificial wood. This was his standard position when the teacher wasn’t talking, so none of his classmates looked too concerned about his dismal posture or defeated look.

 

His sullen mood lasted until lunch, which he had gotten used to eating by himself at his desk ever since his only friend had gone and gotten himself tangled up in a relationship. When Kuroo plopped himself in the vacant chair of Kenma’s seat mate, he received a confused blink and slightly raised eyebrows.

 

“Seriously, I must be the worst best friend ever!” he wailed melodramatically, throwing his bagged lunch down and banging his head against Kenma’s desk. “I’ll make it up to you, Kitten, I promise,” he swore before tearing into his sandwich.

 

“Where’s Naomi?” Kenma asked, sipping vaguely on his juice box. It was good; fruit punch was his favorite.

 

“Uh, I’m not really sure. I haven’t talked to her since that night,” Kuroo said around a huge mouth of food. Kenma hummed interestedly, staring at Kuroo’s throat as he swallowed, slightly mesmerized.

 

“Are you going to talk about Saturday night with her?” Kenma asked, feeling unusually chatty all of a sudden.

 

“Who can say?” Kuroo gave a haphazard shrug, seemingly uncaring as to whether or not he and Naomi would ever address the tension from the past weekend. Kenma sighed, reaching across the table to lightly wipe Kuroo’s face. He had sauce all around his mouth just like a child.

 

“What?” Kenma asked, pulling back slightly. Kuroo had frozen, and was staring at him in . . . shock? Surprise, maybe? Kenma wasn’t sure why, as his cleaning Kuroo’s face of various liquids wasn’t exactly a new trend.

 

“Nothing,” Kuroo finally murmured, sounding strangely breathless, still looking at Kenma with an uncommonly intense expression. Before he could get too freaked out over his best friend’s strange behavior, lunch ended, sending Kuroo running back towards the second year’s classrooms once again.

 

Kenma didn’t see Kuroo again until that afternoon, during their light warmup practice before one of their biggest games of the year against Fukurodani Academy. Kuroo was almost vibrating he was so excited to see Bokuto, which he made sure to tell Kenma at least twice a minute.

 

When the opposing team arrived amidst a swarm of black and gold and confidence, Kuroo stood up straighter, eyes anxiously surveying the mob of tall players until he zeroed in on a figure with a shock of white and black hair, bouncing anxiously on the balls of his heels.

 

“BOKUTO!” Kuroo screeched, running full-tilt at his friend, launching himself into the other boy’s arms among disapproving sighs from teammates and an embarrassed grunt from both team captain.

 

“KUROO!” Bokuto yelled back just as enthusiastically, twirling them around in circles until they both got too dizzy and nearly toppled to the floor in a haze of drunken glee.

 

Kenma watched from the beside the ball cart, idly twirling a volleyball between his fingers, half wondering if he would ever get to play in an official match, half wondering if he should go say hello to Bokuto, who he’d met maybe twice when he was over at Kuroo’s house and Kenma happened to be in his bedroom.

 

He was pulled from his thoughts by Kuroo bounding up to him, grabbing his hand, and pulling him across the gym, chattering excitedly. A new boy materialized next to Bokuto in the minute Kenma had looked away. He was thin, had dark messy hair, and was listening patiently as Bokuto talked, arms waving wildly above his head.

 

“Kenma, Kenma hi!” Bokuto exclaimed loudly enough to draw the attention of half his team. “Do you remember me?”

 

Kenma let a small smile slip onto his face. He bowed slightly, saying, “Of course, Bokuto Koutarou, how could I forget?” Bokuto’s smile stretched across his face, extremely pleased that he had been remembered.

  
“It’s great to see you again, Kenma! And guess what? This is Akaashi! He’s a first year, just like you! And he’s a setter, just like you! You guys have so much in common, just like Kuroo and I!” Kenma wondered briefly if everything Bokuto said sounded like an exclamation point followed directly afterwards.  

 

“Hello, Kenma-san,” Akaashi inclined his head respectfully. “My name is Akaashi Keiji. I look forward to facing your team today.”

 

“Nice to meet you, Akaashi,” Kenma said, interested in the stark contrast between Bokuto and his friend. Where one was bubbly and overwhelming in his presence the other was laid back and quiet. It almost reminded him of his and Kuroo’s relationship.

 

Their future conversation was interrupted by their upperclassman coming over to drag them back to finish their respective warmups, Bokuto and Kuroo yelling their affections at each other as they moved to opposite sides of the gym.

 

The crowd turnout was quite impressive, Kenma thought as the game began. Their volleyball team was moderately popular with students, and with the team member’s parents in attendance they normally had a sizable crowd to watch their games. However, with one of Tokyo’s best teams here, the crowd swelled to twice its normal size, with a pep band and cheerleading squad brought in for both teams.

 

Kenma was in awe of Kuroo during the match, even more so than usual. He jumped higher, reacted quicker, and played better than he ever had in practice. This was clearly due to trying to keep up with Bokuto, who was an absolute monster, even as a second year. Kenma shivered as one of his spiked balls slammed into Yaku’s arms before careening off at an angle. Fukorodani cheered at the point, Bokuto throwing his hands up and celebrating loudly.

 

Nekoma lost the first set by 3 points, much to the chagrin of the upperclassman. Determined to get the next set, Kenma watched as the first-string players got in a huddle, chanting something. They ran back onto the court with a renewed vigor, Kuroo bouncing up and down, slapping his teammates on the back.

 

Looking around the gym as the second set started, Kenma easily spotted his and Kuroo’s parents sitting together. Their mothers sat side by side, absorbed in the match, pointing and jeering along with the students. Their fathers munched popcorn and were talking quietly to each other. When Kuroo’s father scanned the players and found Kenma staring at them, he started waving frantically. Kenma fought a grin and gave a slight wave back before forcing his eyes back to the game just in time to see Kuroo score a point off a block.

 

The gym erupted in applause. The cheerleading team, led by Naomi, started a chant with lots of hand clapping and foot stomping. Kenma couldn’t help but stare at Naomi as she shook her hips and jumped up and down with the rest of her teammates. Abruptly deciding he didn’t want to make himself feel even more shitty, Kenma forced his attention back to the game.

 

Akaashi and Bokuto were an amazing duo. Despite being a first year, Akaashi was brought into the game halfway through the second set, after Bokuto started to get dejected when Nekoma scored 5 points in a row, pulling ahead. The minute Akaashi stepped foot on the court Bokuto perked up, everything from his arms to his hair seeming to quiver with excitement. Kenma could see them converse, Akaashi with a calm, quiet expression, and Bokuto so loudly that Kenma could hear him from across the gym.

 

With a tumultuous cheer from the stands, Nekoma won the second set 27-25. Naomi did a back handspring, parents leapt to their feet, and the student section clapped and hooted. Kenma was beaming, smiling so big his cheeks hurt. Kuroo turned from his huddle on the court to scan the crowd, a huge grin on his face. When his eyes landed on Kenma his smile dropped suddenly, and his eyes went big. Kenma’s smile dimmed slightly, wondering why Kuroo was still staring at him, with an expression that clearly wasn’t the joy of still having a chance to win the game. 

 

Before the third and last set began Coach Nekomata gave a speech to the whole team, not just the first string. Kuroo slid up behind Kenma, leaning his arms on Kenma’s shoulders from behind and laying his head on top of Kenma’s. “Hey,” Kuroo murmured into his ear.

  
Kenma suppressed a full body shudder, and smiled up at his best friend, still in a ridiculously good mood. “You played wonderfully,” Kenma whispered, trying to be semi-respectful of his coach’s inspirational words. The referee blew his whistle, interrupting their conversation. Both teams ran back to the court, excited to finish the game.

 

It was intense. Nekoma would score a point only for Fukurodani to take it back. Just when Nekoma thought they had the advantage and could score the match point, their setter landed funny on his foot and collapsed on the ground. It wasn’t a graceful, bounces right back up fall, either. He lay on the ground, breathing heavily through his nose, eyes clenched tight in pain.

 

The game was stopped as players and coaches rushed around, hands fluttering uselessly as the setter clutched his leg, breath coming in pained gasps. A hush fell across the audience as the parents of the injured player ran down the bleachers and onto the court.

 

When he stood up and hobbled off the court the audience burst into applause. It was so loud that Kenma didn’t notice his name being called until a tap on his shoulder had him spinning around. “You’re in,” the assistant coach said. “Hope you’re still warmed up.”

 

Kenma sat there for a few seconds in shock. He supposed he was the back-up setter, but he never expected to, you know, actually play. He hadn’t even bothered to warm up, since he’d been talking to Bokuto and Akaashi before the match, since he _never actually plays._

 

Terrified, he stood up on shaky legs and slowly walked out to the court. Was everyone always that tall? Was the net always that high? Was the floor always that slippery? Kuroo came up and clasped his shoulder, which centered him a little.

  
“You good?” Kuroo asked, worry clear in his voice. Kenma nodded, moving to the center line. Of course he was put in during the last set of a match during match point against one of the best teams in Tokyo. When he hadn’t played in a single game since middle school. Things were _great_.

 

It was Fukurodani’s serve, and Kenma was too focused on trying to control his panic to look at the ball. It was only his own teammates yelling his name that snapped him out of his self-induced anxiety coma. Running to just in front of the net, Kenma got in position, hands outstretched. He wasn’t sure what exactly happened, but he managed to toss the ball to one of the wing spikers, who slammed it down. The libero received it, sending it in a perfect arc to Akaashi.

 

Akaashi made a show of looking around for others to toss to, but even Kenma could tell that he would toss to Bokuto. Sure enough, the ace jumped high, arm bending back, ball connecting perfectly with the palm of his hand. It was a perfect toss, and Kenma stared at it in awe, watched as Bokuto slammed the ball as hard as he could. The ball bounced off Kuroo’s perfectly timed block and fell down, the libero’s fingertips coming a second too late and a centimeter too short to keep the ball in play.

 

Nekoma paused for a moment, as if in disbelief of their victory. Cheers erupted from the stands and bench, followed quickly by yells from the players on the court. Hair was ruffled, backs were thumped, and Yaku couldn’t stop bouncing up and down.

 

Kenma stood in shock at center court, blinking in confusion until the celebration reached him in a rush of sound. Different hands patted him on the back and pushed him roughly from person to person.

 

Disliking the press of people, Kenma quickly slithered to the edge of the crowd before making his way to the bathroom. He’d had to go since before the match even started, and his nerves certainly hadn’t helped.

  
After doing his business, Kenma was passing by an alcove of lockers when he heard two voices, seemingly raised in argument. Despite what others may think, Kenma _loved_ gossip. His life was incredibly uneventful and drama-free, much to his disappointment. He had to look elsewhere for his daily intake of gossip, be that from trashy magazines hidden under his bed or listening in quietly on other’s conversations during class.

 

Creeping closer, Kenma realized the two voices were male and female. His heart leapt to his throat and his eyes widened in excitement. Hopefully this was a lover’s spat, and he could tell Kuroo all about it later.  

 

The unintelligible babble slowly morphed into comprehensible sounds. “. . . Are you sure?” Kenma heard the boy ask, sounding uneasy.  

 

“Positive. Now come here,” the girl’s voice was definitely lower, and Kenma had to creep even closer to hear her. Peeking cautiously around the corner, he saw the back of a Fukurodani jersey and the arms of a girl twined around his neck. Kenma immediately whipped his head back. He may love a good story, but he wasn’t creepy enough to spy on a couple making out.

 

Backing away slowly, Kenma resolved to pretend he didn’t notice anything until he heard the guy pull back with a moaned, “Naomi.”

 

Snapping his head back, Kenma bolted back to his hideout. Because this obviously wasn’t Kuroo’s Naomi, there’s no way. No one could cheat on Kuroo; beautiful, kind, funny Kuroo. But there she was, her profile highlighted in the dim light, wrapped around a rival player while her boyfriend was still in the gym celebrating their surprising win.

 

Should he say something? Maybe step into view clearing his throat with a knowing, disappointed look in his eye. Let Naomi know he knew, and relish in the power he had over her? He quickly discarded that idea. It would be too mean, and besides, Kenma wasn’t confrontational in the slightest.

 

Backing away slowly, Kenma rounded the corner before his back met something strong and broad. Arms wrapped around his waist from behind and a shaggy head lowered onto his shoulder. “ _Boo_ ,” Kuroo whispered in his ear. Kenma could practically hear his grin.

 

But oh shit, Kuroo was here. And that meant he was very, very close to uncovering Naomi’s dirty little secret. Kenma could _not_ let that happen, he couldn’t stand to see Kuroo in pain. Walking them backwards, Kenma sank deeper into Kuroo’s embrace as the other laughed, thinking Kenma was just being goofy.

 

“So, how’d it feel? Being put in the match at such a key time?” Kuroo clarified, humoring Kenma’s incessant pushing before spinning him around so they were face to face.                       

 

“That toss was great!” Kuroo continued, “We won the game because of your toss!”

 

“Okay, sure,” Kenma said incredulously, momentarily forgetting about the activities behind him. “I literally touched the ball once.”

 

“And that’s all it took! Without you who knows if we would’ve gotten that point.” Kuroo’s eyes were shining and he couldn’t stop grinning. It was infectious, and Kenma found himself smiling up at Kuroo, too, suddenly happy and tingly all over.

 

His happiness and tinglyness abruptly vanished when Kuroo froze, going stiff in front of him. Kenma didn’t need to turn around to know that Naomi and the mysterious Fukurodani player had emerged. Probably holding hands, or looking shocked and guilty, lips red and puffy.

 

The silence was long and awkward. Kuroo’s little “oh” was the only thing to break it up. Eventually Naomi stepped towards them, saying, “Kuroo, let me explain.”

 

Kuroo took several steps back, dragging Kenma with him like a human shield. “No. No, that’s okay. There’s nothing to explain; clearly this relationship isn’t working if you think it’s okay to kiss people behind my back during a game.”

 

Kenma finally turned around, just in time to see Naomi flinch back into the Fukurodani player, who was standing stiffly by her side, looking unsure as to whether he wanted to apologize or run away as fast as he could in the opposite direction.

 

“Kuroo,” Naomi breathed, eyes shiny and chin quivering. Kuroo immediately turned around, as if he knew the minute he saw her cry he’d be swayed to take her back. Kenma tried to feel sympathy for her, but he couldn’t quite manage. It took everything he had not to give her a smug smirk, flaunting that although she won most of the battles, he’d won this one-sided war she didn’t know she was a part of.

 

Kenma turned after Kuroo just in time to see him flee around the corner, head down. Kenma immediately ran after him, his heart in his throat. Was this the opportunity he’d been waiting for? Should he confess now? No, Kuroo would be too vulnerable and Kenma didn’t want to shock him even more.

 

To Kenma’s surprise Kuroo didn’t head to the locker room to sulk, but rather marched back into the gym, still packed with people. Parents milled around, looking for their children. Nekoma’s first years were busy taking the nets down and picking up balls Kenma noticed with a slight twinge of guilt. 

 

Abruptly turning to face Kenma, Kuroo gave him a pained smile. “Hey, I’m sorry you had to see that back there. I’m fine, don’t worry, I just need to go say bye to Bokuto super quick.” Kenma could take a hint. He nodded and gave Kuroo a small smile before lurching forward to wrap his thin arms around Kuroo’s waist, giving him a small but strong squeeze.

 

Pulling away, Kenma saw Kuroo staring at him with wide eyes, shocked that Kenma had been the one to initiate physical contact. Kenma walked away to grab a stray ball, trying his best not to look like a blushing, gross mess. Which he definitely was, because Kuroo smelled _good_ despite being all sweaty from playing Volleyball for over an hour.

 

Kenma had just finished picking up the last few balls when he heard his name being called. Akaashi was behind him, dressed in sweatpants and a warm up jacket. He had two bags slung over his shoulder and was clearly getting ready to leave.

 

“You played very well today, Kozume-kun. Congratulations on the win.” Kenma smiled shyly at Akaashi, unused to being praised for his playing.

 

“Please, call me Kenma. And thank you, but you’re the incredible setter. You played most of the game and you’re only a first year.”

 

Akaashi’s smile dimmed slightly. “Thank you, Kenma. But the only reason I played so much was because I work well with Bokuto.” Kenma could in no way be called perceptive. He didn’t understand people, much less complex things called emotions. But he thought he caught a hint of wistfulness in Akaashi’s tone, a certain downturn to his eyes. It was almost like looking in a mirror.

 

A yell from across the court interrupted their conversation. They turned in unison to see Kuroo’s head pop out of a cart of balls as Bokuto cannonballed after him amidst barks of reprove from their coaches.

 

Akaashi muttered something under his breath before excusing himself and marching over towards his coach, trying in vain to fish Bokuto out of the cart.

 

Kenma finished cleaning the gym and made his way to the locker room. Opening the door, he was assaulted with rowdy cheers and the smell of old socks. He quietly made his way to his locker, same as always. Just after he’d neatly folded his jersey a hand clasped him on the shoulder.

 

“Kenma!” The captain said, very loudly, still clearly riding the high of the victory against one of Tokyo’s top teams. “You did very well today. I know this was your first time playing in a match, so great job. Keep up the good work and you may get to play even more.”

 

Kenma was left staring after him as he left to congratulate others. That was the first time one of his senpai had ever really talked to him. It felt really nice to be acknowledged, if he was being honest with himself.

 

By the time Kuroo got to the locker room most of their teammates had left and Kenma was sitting on the bench tapping at his PSP. He looked tired as he stripped off and changed back into his school uniform, the high from the impromptu visit from Bokuto obviously wearing off.

 

They both slung their bags over their shoulders and left school in silence. Kenma didn’t know if his quietness was making Kuroo feel better or worse but every time he tried to speak the words got caught in his throat. He couldn’t tell Kuroo he was sorry he had broken up with his girlfriend, because he definitely wasn’t. He’d never gone through a breakup, either, so he couldn’t exactly give advice.

 

When they reached their houses Kuroo mumbled a soft goodbye, leaving Kenma to stare after him as he walked to his door and disappeared inside.

 

Kenma found himself staring at his ceiling several hours later. It seemed to be a theme in his life, staring at ceilings and pining over someone who would never like him back. It was quite lonesome and endlessly tiring. A soft voice fluttered in from Kenma’s open window, calling his name. Lugging himself off his bed Kenma made his way to Kuroo, just like always.

 

 “How are you?” Kenma asked immediately, leaning a bit farther out than he was used to. “I’m so sorry, Kuro.”

 

Kuroo let out a self-deprecating laugh before he sighed and ran a hand down his face. “I’ve been better. But this is probably for the best. I wasn’t exactly . . . happy with her.”

 

Kenma’s face twisted enough to make Kuroo let out a genuine laugh. “I know what you’re going to say,” he grinned, “’Kuro, why would you stay with someone who doesn’t make you happy?’” Kenma giggled and tucked his hair behind his ear. Kuroo knew him well.

 

“And the reason, my dear Kenma, is because I’m a chicken. I couldn’t work up the nerve to break it off because I’m a coward,” he said bitterly.

 

“You’re not a coward,” Kenma said snappishly. “You’re the bravest person I know. And don’t argue with me on this, you won’t win.”

 

Kuroo stared at him for a moment with a dumbstruck look. “I like someone else, too,” he blurted out before his eyes widened, as if he hadn’t meant to let that slip.  

 

“What?” Kenma asked, keeping his tone carefully neutral. His insides twisted and he felt like all the breath had been knocked out of him. Kuroo already had another crush? When had this happened? Could Kuroo see his heart physically shatter?

 

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Kuroo said quickly, waving his hands around. “I’ve liked this person for . . . a really long time, I think. I just didn’t realize it until recently.”

 

The two lapsed into an awkward silence. Kenma was feeling almost sick to his stomach. Right when he got a shred of hope it was yanked away. “I have to go,” he said suddenly. “My mom’s calling me for dinner.”

 

It was a pitiful excuse, and on any other day Kuroo would have called him out on his bullshit. But his head was elsewhere. “Yeah, me too,” he breathed, staring intently at Kenma.

 

Kenma had no choice but to stand up and walk out of his room and go downstairs, away from Kuroo, because apparently “dinner was ready.”


	6. You Belong With Me

A week passed before Kuroo and Kenma were fully settled back into their pre-Naomi relationship, full of comfortable silences, soft touches, and lots of staying in and playing video games on the weekends. Kenma decided that he must have forgotten how close he and Kuroo were before he started dating someone, which was why the constant touches and affectionate gazes threw him off for a few days.

                    

“Hey,” Kuroo said, resting his chin on Kenma’s head as he played _Final Fantasy._ Kenma grunted in acknowledgement, eyes focused on the screen in front of him as he ignored the warmth of Kuroo’s legs against his back. “You know what we should do?”

  
  
“No,” Kenma said as he cleared a level, a small, victorious, smile gracing his lips.

 

“Go to the school dance together.” At Kenma’s prolonged silence Kuroo panicked, lifting his head up. “I know you don’t like crowds, or dancing, or getting sweaty, but you know I have to go because I’m in student council, and I just thought that maybe it’d be slightly less terrible if you were there?”

 

Kenma paused his game and turned around. As if Kuroo’s tone didn’t tell him he was serious about this, the serious set of his mouth confirmed it. “But why would you want to go with me?” he asked. “I’m not fun at parties, and I’ve never danced in my life.”

 

“So that’s a maybe?” Kuroo smirked in relief, taking a strand of Kenma’s hair and twirling it between his fingers.

 

“I don’t own a suit,” Kenma said uncomfortably. Kenma really, _really_ wanted to say yes. Picturing Kuroo in a dark suit, hair sticking up even after spending an hour trying to wrangle it under control, made Kenma’s stomach feel fuzzy and warm. He pictured the two of them dancing, pressed up together, ignoring the press of their sweaty classmates. It sounded wonderful.

 

“Yes you do, it’s your funeral suit,” Kuroo said. “And besides, you could show up in sweatpants and still look amazing,” Kuroo needled, a hopeful smile growing at his lips. “Please say yes, I don’t want to go alone.”

“You could always ask someone else, someone who actually owns formal clothes,” Kenma said, not knowing what else to say. He twisted around to face the TV again, knowing that if he looked at Kuroo for any longer he’d agree to anything, even accompanying him to a shitty school dance that would be undeniably sucky. “I don’t think I’d be very much fun.”

  
“Please, Kenma,” Kuroo begged, “It won’t be the same without you there.” Kenma resolutely stared at the carpet, knowing that if he looked at Kuroo all he would see were his puppy eyes. And Kenma was weak for puppy eyes.

 

“I don’t know. It’s not really my scene,” Kenma mumbled as he picked at his fingernails.

 

“I understand,” Kuroo said, and ran his fingers through Kenma’s hair to let him know he wasn’t that disappointed. “And don’t feel bad,” he said, knowingly tapping Kenma’s forehead.

 

“I’m sorry,” he said, “It’s not that I don’t want to dance with you. Because I do. And I think you’d look great in a suit. But, being around all those people. . . .”

 

“I get it,” Kuroo said when Kenma trailed off uncomfortably. “Let’s just pretend I didn’t ask. So how are you going to clear this level?”

 

Kuroo left later that night after eating dinner and watching a shitty movie with Kenma and his parents. “Get home safe, Tetsurou-chan,” Kenma’s mother called after him, a traditional goodbye by now.   

 

“Will do, Kozume-san,” Kuroo smiled, before walking 20 feet to his own front door, Kenma’s mother vigilantly staring at his back to make sure he arrived safely.

 

Kenma should have realized that Kuroo’s talk about the dance would be mirrored in his classmates’ conversations on Monday. All though homeroom he had to listen to girls’ panicked conversations about who was asking who to the dance, and whether they would get a date in time. At lunch before Kuroo came to pick him up he overheard some of the boys talking about which girls they thought were the prettiest, and who was desperate enough not to turn them down instantly.

 

Kenma was bent over his homework during a break in afternoon lessons when someone tapped him on the shoulder. He turned around and was greeted by four girls whose names he wasn’t sure of. They all smiled at him in unison, which was terrifying.

 

“Hey Kozume-kun, who’s that tall guy that you’re always hanging out with? The one with the cool, messy hair,” the one who sat right behind him asked. He couldn’t remember her name.

 

“That’s Kuroo. He’s on the volleyball team with me,” Kenma said cautiously, making a mental note to tell Kuroo that someone thought his stupid bedhead actually looked cool for once.

 

“What class is he in? I never see him around unless he’s with you,” a different girl asked, twirling her pigtail around her index finger and snapping a bubble with gum that technically wasn’t allowed in the classrooms.

 

“He’s actually a second year,” Kenma said nervously, his back getting sore from being twisted around.

 

The girls simultaneously sighed before giggling to each other. Kenma was confused, and really wanted to get back to his math homework. If he finished it in class, Kuroo promised they could get ice cream after practice.

 

“Do you know if he has a girlfriend or a date to the dance yet?” one of the girls demanded, her previous nonchalance tossed out the window.

 

Kenma felt a surge of irrational jealously wash over him. There was no way in hell anybody except himself would be accompanying Kuroo to a dance. “He actually just broke up with his girlfriend,” Kenma tried to look apologetic. “I don’t think that he’s ready to start dating again, he’s still kind of torn up about it.”

 

The girls all tittered disappointedly before their leader dismissed him with a, “Well, thanks anyways.”

 

Kenma was in a sour mood the rest of class, which continued into volleyball practice. All anyone could talk about was the stupid dance, and who they wanted to ask, and whether they’d go out after the dance as well or if it would be a onetime thing. By the end of practice Kenma was officially in a bad mood, and terribly sick of hearing about nothing except the stupid school dance since morning.

 

Kuroo picked up on his annoyance, and paid for his extra-large cone himself, waving off Kenma’s attempts to pay him back. They walked home quietly, and Kuroo didn’t bring the dance up again. Kenma strongly regretted rejecting Kuroo’s invitation, and wished that he was less awkward and had the confidence to ask Kuroo out to a place that he would actually enjoy himself at, like the arcade in the mall, or GameStop.  

                                                                                          

Because Kenma thought that maybe, just maybe, there was a chance that Kuroo liked him, too. And while Kenma had never done anything brave or out of his comfort zone in his life, he thought that Kuroo was worth it. But the timing wasn’t right.

 

He’d already said no to being Kuroo’s date, and knew that Kuroo was hurt about it, no matter how he’d laughed it off and even joked about it. He desperately wanted to let Kuroo know that he liked him, had been in love with him for years. He just wasn’t sure how to go about confessing his feelings. Anytime he opened his mouth to ask Kuroo to go to his favorite Ramen restaurant with him in a not platonic way, the words would get stuck in his throat, and he’d have to cough discreetly to cover up the strange chocking sound.

 

But, low and behold, the day of the dance arrived and Kenma had, of course, not screwed up the courage to ask Kuroo to go anywhere with him. Kuroo’s complaints about attending the dance grew more and more common in the week running up to it. He would gag anytime they walked past a gaudy, glittery poster advertising a “night to remember.” Anytime they walked past a girl being asked Kuroo would laugh uncomfortably and quickly escort them away, whistling unnaturally.

 

“Are you excited?” Kenma asked out his window, watching as Kuroo tried and failed to tie his tie. Kuroo looked wonderful in black slacks and a pressed white shirt. That wasn’t saying much, since Kuroo could dress in a plastic bag and still look incredible, but he still looked uncommonly good tonight.

 

“Meh,” Kuroo said, searching for a YouTube video on how to tie a tie. “I’m kind of pissed I have to get there four hours early to set up, but better this committee than the cultural festival, you know. A lot less work. Are you sure you don’t want to go tonight?”

 

“I can’t, I’m . . . studying,” Kenma said lamely, making a face at how stupid that sounded. It was a Friday night, what kind of loser would actually be studying?

 

“Wish you were going,” Kuroo said, finally knotting his tie with a flourish. “Well, if you change your mind, you know where I’ll be,” Kuroo smiled at him before picking his jacket off his chair and slinging it over his shoulder. “See ya.”

 

Kenma was never brave. He wasn’t courageous. For most of his life he sat passive, content to let things happen and just roll with the punches, never taking any steps to influence what happened around him. He’d never fought for what he believed in, and he rarely put himself in situations that made him uncomfortable.

 

And he was sick of it. He just allowed the love of his life to walk away after he kind of sort of asked Kenma out. What was wrong with him? Did he secretly enjoy torturing himself?

 

“Mom,” Kenma shouted as he ran down the stairs into the living room, his brain not quite caught up to where his body was carrying him. His father was watching television and his mother was reading a book on the sofa. “Do you know where that suit I wore to grandpa’s funeral is? I need it.”

 

* * *

 

“Honey, you look so grown up.” Kenma closed his eyes as they finally, _finally_ , pulled up in front of the school. Both his parents had insisted on driving him to his first – and likely last – high school dance. And his mom wouldn’t shut up about it.

 

“Do you think Tetsu-chan could come outside super quick for a picture?” she asked, wringing her hands. “I just think it would look so cute. I know his mother would love a copy as well.”

 

“We can do that later,” Kenma said noncommittally, knowing that “later” meant “never.”

 

“Alright, knock ‘em dead kid. Dance with all the pretty girls for me,” his dad joked as they pulled up to the gym doors where the dance was held. Kenma was about an hour late, and judging by the lack of cars loitering by the doors, everyone else was already inside. He took a deep breath to steady his nerves before opening the car door.

 

Once he entered the dance and paid for his ticket, he froze. There were so many people, all of them thrashing or gyrating to the shitty, generic, electronic music the home ec teacher masquerading as a DJ thought they wanted to hear.

 

Kenma spent about .4 seconds scanning the crowd for Kuroo before giving up, resigning himself to sulking around by the punch table for the foreseeable future. Hell would freeze over before he willingly set foot in the dance circle forming around two awkwardly enthusiastic kids who looked like they were being electrocuted.

 

Apparently, it was a cold day in hell, because before Kenma knew what was happening Yaku grabbed him from behind, shrieked his name, and pulled him into the fray. Kenma had always liked Yaku; he was talented, kind, and didn’t make him feel worthless as a setter like his other senpai did. Whatever shreds of affection Kenma felt for him disappeared as soon as Yaku dragged him onto the dancefloor before leaving him alone, bouncing over to a different group of people.

 

 _Don’t panic, don’t panic_ , Kenma told himself as his vision started to swim. There were just so many people, and he couldn’t breathe because they were all packed in so tightly, and it smelled like sweat, and someone had grabbed him by mistake and wasn’t letting go.

 

Kenma spun around, almost blind in his panic, ready to punch whoever was hanging onto him so persistently. He dropped his fist when he realized that he actually knew the person who was clutching his hand. Kuroo started at him in shock, looking sweaty and disheveled but still so, so wonderful.

 

Kenma immediately relaxed and threw himself into Kuroo’s chest, feeling better and less panicky almost instantly. He saw Kuroo’s lips moving, but couldn’t hear him over the “music,” what Kenma suspected was really just the sounds of two computers having sex.

 

Kuroo started to shuffle to the edges of the crowd, a hand firmly planted on Kenma’s back to keep them together. By the time they broke away from the throng of bodies, Kenma felt much calmer, and his hands had finally stopped shaking. Kuroo kept a firm hold of his hand as he led them out of the gym and into the cafeteria, which had small tables with refreshments set up for people who needed to take a break. Kenma immediately felt better.

 

“Your hair,” Kuroo blurted when they could hear again. “What did you do to it?” Kenma fingered the strands self-consciously, suddenly unsure of what he had done in his bathtub about two hours ago with help from his mother.

“I bleached it. I felt like a change.”

 

“It suits you,” Kuroo said softly, fingers moving to tangle in Kenma’s hair, softly stroking his scalp. “You look amazing. Is that the suit you wore to your grandfather’s funeral?”

 

“Yep,” Kenma said, pleased Kuroo had noticed. They sat in silence for a while, ignoring their classmates as they came and went, shrieking in laughter or gossiping loudly about other people’s choice of dress.

 

“Do you want to get out of here?” Kuroo finally asked, fingers still entangled in Kenma’s hair.

 

“Don’t you have to stay until the end?”

 

“Nah, I was just on set up duty. Some other unfortunate sod has to clean all this shit up.”

 

Kenma rose, not needing to hear another word. They walked hand and hand out of the dance, taking a left out of the parking lot and setting off towards home, just like always.

 

They talked occasionally, but were mostly content to walk in a comfortable silence, occasionally punctuated by Kuroo’s random observations.

 

“So you were only there for a grand total of 8 minutes we left? That’s got to be a record or something for least amount of time spent at a dance.”

 

“I was in charge of hanging up the streamers, which is why they all looked so shitty.”

 

“The music was even worse last year, if you can believe that.”

 

“Naomi kept staring at me the whole time she had that Fukurodani’s player’s tongue stuck down her throat. I think I was supposed to be jealous?”

 

“Let’s go in here,” Kuroo tugged Kenma towards the park where they played as children and – more recently – where Kenma had fatefully fallen asleep in the slide. It was silent and still, the warm breeze making the swings creak softly as crickets chirped from the surrounding forest.

 

Kuroo and Kenma sat atop of the playground’s tower, feet dangling over the edge and swinging against the rope ladder. “So,” Kuroo drawls as he suavely placed their entwined hands on his lap.

 

“So,” Kenma says back, pleased and extremely surprised that his voice didn’t crack or break halfway through the one syllable.

 

“Any particular reason you came to the dance tonight after so coolly rejecting my offer of companionship?” Kenma looked at his lap. Kuroo was such a dork, and even though he felt like he was going to throw up from nerves and anticipation, it made him smile.

 

“Well, I had to see about someone,” Kenma said, briefly congratulating himself on that rather smooth line, if he did say so himself.

 

“Is that right?” Kuroo asked, using his free hand to gently cup Kenma’s face in his palm and tip his chin back. All of the breath left Kenma’s lungs in a whoosh when he realized how close Kuroo was. If he wanted to he could count the faint freckles that dotted his nose, or even the thick eyelashes that seemed to flutter in slow motion as Kuroo’s eyes drifted down to stare at Kenma’s lips.

 

“Also, I’m in love with you.” The words were out before Kenma knew he had even opened his mouth. They both froze for a second before Kenma turned red as a brick, mouth gaping. He had sounded _so cool_ literally 5 seconds ago. What happened? It was all Kuroo’s fault, for having eyelashes so perfect that they fried people’s brains and made them say embarrassing things.

 

It seemed to be an eternity before Kuroo snapped out of it, a huge grin slowly stretching across his lips as his grip on Kenma’s hand and face tightened. “I love you, too.”

 

Kenma barely registered the words before Kuroo’s lips were on his, and oh god, had anything ever felt better? Kenma finally understood why people devoted so much of their time in search of someone to make out with if it felt this wonderful. Maybe he’d have to apologize to the girls who sat behind him in class on Monday for ever doubting them.

 

They parted reluctantly when a passing car’s lights briefly blinded them. Kenma blinked dizzily, briefly wondering if Kuroo’s saliva was a drug developed by the government to relax its victims to the point of spilling all their secrets with no prompting. It would be much more effective than torture.

 

“Let’s go home,” Kuroo whispered into his ear, causing another shiver to work its way down Kenma’s spine. They unceremoniously slid down the slide and dusted themselves off before making the journey back to their houses, hand in hand.

 

“How long?” Kuroo asked out of nowhere. “How long have you . . . you know.”

 

Kenma smiled at him, briefly considering lying before discarding it. What was the point? “Probably my whole life. But I only became aware during junior high. Those volleyball shorts fit you _really_ well.”

 

“ _Kenma_!” Kuroo shrieked, hands releasing Kenma to flap uselessly around his face. “You dirty minx! And all this time I thought you were this pillar of virtue, uncorrupted in an impure world.”

 

They both dissolved into giggles, linking arms at the elbows and nearly skipping up their street as a fresh wave of giddiness overtook them. Kuroo kept leaning down to peck him on the lips. Kenma kept standing on his tiptoes to nibble on his ear. It was an ineffective way to travel, but neither were in any rush.

 

“But me too,” he said suddenly, turning to grab both of Kenma’s hands in his. “I’ve loved you forever. Naomi was a way to try to get over you. I’m being serious!” Kuroo cried defensively at Kenma’s quirked eyebrow. “And it clearly worked, just look at us now. Sworn enemies.” Kenma let out a snot and tugged Kuroo along, smiling stupidly.

 

“Will you come over tonight?” Kenma asked once they reached their houses, Kuroo walking Kenma up to his front door.

 

“Wait. Wait, wait, wait. Are you asking me to crawl over? Like though the windows? The perilous, dangerous windows?” At Kenma’s nod Kuroo hugged him tightly. “I’ve never been so proud.”

 

They parted reluctantly, Kenma not exactly thrilled to tell his parents all about his 8 minutes of being at a dance, and Kuroo practically vibrating in excitement to try crawling across the alley into Kenma’s room again.

 

“Until tonight, my prince,” Kuroo said dramatically, bowing deeply and kissing Kenma’s knuckles, eyes soft and glistening.

 

Kenma sighed happily, staring lovingly at Kuroo’s stupid, messy bedhead. “Until tonight, Kuro.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, thanks so much for sticking around if you made it this far! I hope you enjoyed reading as much as I enjoyed writing :D

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you liked this self-indulgent cheese fest :)


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